A goat's head and the horns of an ox were the only ornaments of the chimney-breast, which was white-washed.
On this night of 1660 the wind was loud and wild without.

The snowstorm that had hung over the head of Castenand in the morning had come down the valley as the day wore on.

The heavy sleet rattled at the windows.

In its fiercer gusts it drowned the ring of the lusty voices.

The little parlor looked warm and snug with its great cobs of old peat glowing red as they burnt away sleepily on the broad hearth.
At intervals the door would open and a shepherd would enter.